


The Worst Time

by TheWeather



Category: Undertale
Genre: F/M, Gen, Judgement Hall, M/M, Megalovania, Oneshot, Reader is probably not frisk, You Decide, bad times, final corridor, no defined gender for reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeather/pseuds/TheWeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A burning desire for death and dust consumed you. It kept you ticking over all the time. After a while you could forget about the chalky texture on your hands. The lack of noise that filled so many with dread as you stole the life out of the once bustling caverns. You didn't care about living. You didn't care about anyone really.</p><p>Except him.</p><p>And how much you want him to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Time

**Author's Note:**

> A oneshot in which Sans gives you a bad time.

You remember how it all began. The scent of golden flowers, sickeningly sweet and radiating grace and beauty. You hated them. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You had climbed Mt. Ebbot hoping for the bitter embrace of death’s cold hands and yet…. Something within you burned bright. A spark of light inside your ashen existence. A purpose. A calling.

Y o u ’ r e f i l l e d w i t h d e t e r m i n a t i o n.

The skeleton man was the biggest obstacle yet. Something you weren’t expecting. He had seemed so nonchalant. Care free. ‘It’s funny how people can change so drastically.’ you mused, before having to remind yourself that he was not a person. He was just EXP sitting pretty. Waiting to be reaped by the angel of death.

Not that he would go down easy.

“You look frustrated.” He smiled a knowing smile. “Guess I must have done a pretty good job in pissing you off huh.” That grin would haunt you for the rest of your days. Dark eyes, wide smile. A bright flash of insanity within his sweet saccharin bullshit. At least it wasn’t as bad as that poxy pink robot. You waited, hackles raised and poised to attack.  
“That eager to have a Bad time huh? Well, I’m a generous man, let’s go.”

And so it began. Without mercy. Without forgiveness.

You dodged bones left and right, the dance of death ingrained into memory like a bad maths question. Just like maths, he became predictable. Just like maths, over time he became easy. Or did you become better? Sweat beaded on his skull, that maniac look still frozen onto his face. His passion burned brighter than a thousand suns and yet yours burned brighter still. The determination of a human far more than that of a mere monster. A pile of dust begging to be kicked over. A debt waiting to be collected, and boy did this skeleton owe you. The amount of times your soul had cracked and shattered from the might of his magic was enough to drive you to insanity. If you weren’t already insane as it was. A wild grin broke your perpetually passive features. The thrill of the fight. The adrenaline rush. This was why they all had to die. This was why you killed them all. 

A blinding pain rushed through your side. You had been so lost in thought you hadn’t seen the blaster coming. The smell of searing flesh enveloped the room. It only focused you more on the hunt. On your prey. On him.

It became routine after that. The leaps and turns just another pattern to learn. You didn’t have to think. You didn’t have to decide. You just had to move. Dagger flashing in the golden light, it wasn’t long until you had worn him down. He panted, skull wet with perspiration.  
“You *pant* really like… waving that thing around don’t ’cha.” He exclaimed, bent over double with the weight of your silence. A smile was his answer. Silence filled the hall, overwhelmingly thick and suffocating. Him, fatigued and worthless now. You moved agonisingly slow, afraid to break the silence and bring him back to consciousness. Freedom was tantalisingly close. You could almost taste it on your tongue. Almost reach it with your dust covered hands. You swung once. He laughed. You swung again in quick succession.

He wasn’t laughing anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I had lots of fun writing this and thought it would be interesting to read. I hope you think so!


End file.
